My Daddy by Roarin' Fire

My Daddy

There's a photo of my dad holding me soon after I was born
Showing me off to the camera
The smile on his face beams with pride at the birth of his baby girl

In another one, dad is sitting in a dining room chair
I'm a little older and just learning to stand
I'm wearing a snowsuit and I'm standing there next to him
Clutching onto his pant leg for dear life
I'm standing on my own, but his hands are there
Ready to catch me should I fall

Then there's one that was taken when I was about ten
We were at my grandparents' cottage in Canada
My dad and I are holding up a string full of fish
Fish that I'd proudly caught myself
My father and grandfather had taken
Both my brothers fishing that morning and had left me behind
When they finally came back in for lunch, my mom told my dad
That I had moped around and pouted the whole time they were gone
To make it up to me
Dad and Grampa took me fishing in an old abandoned boathouse
I caught more fish in half an hour than the boys did all morning

I no longer have those photographs
Due to a house fire in the spring of 1980
But I guess I really don't need them to remind me that he loved me
For I know that he did and I know that I will miss him
Because I have always been a daddy's girl
Growing up, I loved being outside with him
A hammer and a nail in my hand

Over the course of my father's 79 years, he has been many things
A son, a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather
A soldier, a carpenter, a bricklayer, a stonemason, a minister
And ever the comedian
But to me, he was and always will be
My daddy

4.25.07

Author's Notes

I started writing this poem the day my father died. The inspiration for it came from a question my mom asked my brothers and me. She wanted to know if we had any photos of our dad that we wanted to display at the memorial service. I immediately thought of those three photographs and wished that I still had them. I loved those pictures of my dad and me.

For the memorial service, one of my sisters-in-law, who is into scrapbooking, put together a photo album of pictures that all of us contributed. Although I thought the album was really nice, I still wanted to do something special for the memorial myself, something that was very personal to pay tribute to my dad. So, I decided to frame this poem for the service. I found a simple black 8"x10" frame and this cool composite paper of pale blue and white. It reminded me of the sky with tiny clouds.

On the day of the memorial, the family got to go over to the church ahead of time and set things up the way we wanted. We brought in some of the large potted plants we'd received and placed them around. Then to the right of the entryway door was a credenza where mom put the register and an 8"x10" photo taken of my parents on their wedding day, a 5"x7" portrait of my dad that was taken at my younger brother's wedding, the photo album of 30 4"x6" photographs, and last, but certainly not least, was my poem.

The poem was well-received. I heard quite a few compliments from people as they came through the receiving line. I even got one from my younger brother. We were sitting side-by-side, waiting on the service to begin, when he leaned over towards me and said, "I liked your poem." I turned to look at him and replied, "Thanks... really?" He then came back with, "Yeah, it was all right."

After the service was over, everything was brought back to my mother's house. The two framed photographs now sit on top of the entertainment unit in the living room. Across the room is the photo album on the side table between my parents' chairs. And the poem is on a lamp table in the dining room. Whenever I'm there at my mother's house, I can still feel my father's presence. It's really hard to miss it what with all those reminders sitting around.

This is one of the framed photos of my father that resides on my mom's entertainment center. It was also the photograph that was used for the memorial pamphlet that was handed out at the memorial service. The photo was taken at my younger brother's wedding.